Page 25 of Violent Love: Viktor
My cock pressed against the base of her tail, so fucking hard it ached. Her arousal upped her timeline. I needed Vadik to sort contraception before I ruined her properly.
I wasn’t made to be a father. I was made for this.
“You’ll learn to take what I give you, Natalya—the pain, the pleasure.” I ground my fingers into her clit, dragging a broken sound from her lips.“You’ll take it all. Like a goodSuka.”
Her head bowed. Defeated. Wordless.
Perfect.
I withdrew from her and reached for the rest of my tools, placing the shock collar remote on the bed beside her. She eyed it warily.
I wouldn’t go easy on her.
Not now.
Not ever.
Chapter 10
Natalya
He was a cruel, disgusting pig of a man who nearly choked me earlier with porridge—and yet, here I was, responding to his touch.
After he left, I’d clawed at the bowl, crying and eating simultaneously. Pathetic. Grateful for food, even while I was still reeling from his cruelty. The warmth in my belly was a small mercy. It gave me just enough strength to hate myself for reacting to him. Though clearly, it hadn’t reached my brain yet.
I kept my eyes shut as I heard him rummaging through his bag. The new collar felt strange, the little box embedded in the strap pressing into my skin like a warning. I shivered at the memory of his words. He wasn’t a man given to gentleness, and I knew better than to hope for softness now.
I tried not to move, not to beg, not to scream. None of it would help me. If anything, it would only make him meaner and more creative.
Before all this, my life had been bleak—but at least it had been mine. I worked to pay bills in a mould-infested flat I shared with my father, a drunk who hadn’t loved me in years, if he ever had. A tear burned down my cheek. Would he even report me missing? Or only notice once the beer runs out?
That life was a slow death. This one promised to be faster—if not by bullet, then by breaking. Still, I couldn’t bring myself to welcome death. Not Viktor’s version. Not violent. Not personal.
My eyes snapped open when I felt his large hands on me again, palming my ass, gripping tight. His fingers dug in, bruising, while the weight of his other hand settled along my spine—a warning.
He gripped the tail, pulling back until the plug stretched my hole, making me groan. He didn’t remove it. He shoved it deeper. The sensation made my whole body tense. I opened my mouth to beg—then thought better of it. I remembered the porridge.
His hand drifted lower, trailing over my thigh, sliding between my legs. My muscles trembled, but I stayed still. I stayed silent.
When his fingers brushed my folds and began to rub, my body betrayed me again. Every movement was calculated. Rhythmic. The plug moved in time with his strokes, and it was too much. Too focused. Too consuming.
I bit down hard on my lip—but still, the moan escaped me. And then his fingers shoved inside my pussy, rough and deep, as he forced the plug into my ass again.
Shame burned through me like acid.
I knew it was only the beginning.
“Such a good girl,” he muttered, removing the tail plug to squirt lube over my sore, stretched hole.
The cool gel slid inside me as he used the plug to work it deeper, pushing it in and out until the tail glided smoothly. Shame burned through me, but I stayed still, breath catching as the plug popped back in one last time.
“I’m going to fuck your holes until they grow accustomed to the shape of my cock,” he said, voice cold, distant.
My body froze. I could barely breathe as I listened to the sound of his belt unclasping, the slow rasp of his zipper, each second a countdown to something worse. I risked a glance back. He was naked now, save for his shirt, which he unbuttoned casually like this was routine.
This was it.
He was going to claim me, not like a lover, but like a master.
